


11:59

by writerdot



Category: House M.D.
Genre: 8x17, Gen, Pre-Slash, post episode
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-05
Updated: 2017-04-05
Packaged: 2018-10-15 03:24:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10549254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writerdot/pseuds/writerdot
Summary: House goes to see Wilson after he gets Dominika's INS letter.





	

He lays awake, staring at the ceiling, and an hour and a half later, once he sees the lights flicker out from under the door,  
he sits up and grabs his cane to get himself out of bed.

He moves toward the door and opens it, listening for noise, any sound of Dominika still moving around the apartment. When he hears nothing, he steps out, closes the door behind him and limps toward the living room.

Dominika is, in fact, asleep on the couch. He waits just a moment or two before turning toward the trash-can by the table against the wall, plucking out the discarded INS letter before grabbing his keys and leaving the apartment, the door closing just a soft click behind him

Before he knows it, he’s standing in front of Wilson’s door, noting that it’s sad that he’s spent a small amount of time here since he got out of prison; pizza night the week before had only been the second occurrence. Every other time, it’s been Wilson coming over to his place for video games on Saturday nights, so it can seem like he and Dominika are simply having a friend over for dinner once a week. It had seemed like a decent enough way to balance his duties as fake-hubby and spend time with Wilson at the same time.

He clenches the envelope in his fist, and closes that around the top of his cane as he raises the other hand and knocks sharply on the door. It’s late, almost midnight, but he knows that Wilson would hardly expect any one else at this hour, and he’d be sure to answer.

Sure enough, a disgruntled and sleepy face is peering at him a minute later. The frown turns into concern when Wilson gets a glimpse of House's expression and he steps back without a word, letting House in.

House thrusts the envelope at him before he's even all of the way through. “What do I do?”

Wilson blinks owlishly, rubbing at his eyes before he opens it, reading quickly. “Approved. That’s gr-" but then Wilson stops, looking more clearly at House’s face. “Not great?”

“I don’t…know.”

Wilson nods slowly. “You’ve gotten used to having her around. I could see why you might be-”

“I threw it away.”

Wilson looks at him, confused, and House clarifies, waving a hand toward it, “Originally, when I got the letter, opened it…I walked in the door and she’d fixed the damned blender and made damned smoothies and…it was…”

“Nice having someone to come home to,” Wilson finishes softly. House doesn’t answer, instead looking away, fiddling with his cane.

Wilson takes a deep breath. “All right. I need caffeine for this.”

House agrees and follows Wilson to the kitchen, seating himself on one of the benches surrounding the island, setting his cane next to him. Not long later, the fresh, almost comforting, smell of brewed coffee is permeating the loft. Wilson sets a mug down in front of him and takes his own seat.

“I don’t think,” Wilson begins gently, taking a sip of his coffee. “that keeping Emily was ever about sex.”

House rolls his eyes. “Are you just figuring that out now?”

“No,” Wilson answers patiently, leaning his elbows on the counter-top and wrapping his fingers around the mug. “I told you I thought you were making a positive step, remember?”

“And I told you that I knew it was your passive aggressive tendencies rearing their ugly head again,” House retorts, taking his own sip.

Wilson shrugs. “And if I told you that that was you deflecting you’d just insult me some more. Would be a vicious circle and it’s been a long day. Let’s drop those for tonight.”

House frowns. “What the hell would I be deflecting, exactly?”

“Me caring about you, you ass,” Wilson says exasperatedly. “I do want what’s best for you, you know.”

“Sap,” House says, but his heart isn’t in it. That’s not the first time Wilson’s ever said that and he’s sure it won’t be the last. He grips his own mug, and averts his eyes again.

“Yeah, well. Tell me something I don’t know.”

“Not before you tell me what I should do about this first.”

At this, Wilson takes another sip of his coffee, before setting the mug down and folding his arms across his chest in a clear and classic defensive pose…but House gets the distinct feeling that Wilson is trying to protect…himself?...like he’s gearing up for something.

House is pretty sure he already knows what that is. “And I don’t want another lecture on defrauding the government and sleeping with hookers and-“

“Move back in with me.”

Oh. House freezes and thinks that he should have seen that one coming.

But before he can get a word in edgewise, Wilson’s babbling, “I know it didn’t really work out the first time and I never apologized for kicking you out…that was stupid and my way of trying to… Look, we don’t even have to stay here. We could get a new place, get a real fresh start and-“

“Wilson,” House interrupts firmly and when Wilson’s looking at him again, all nervous tension, he says, “Breathe.”

Wilson obeys, taking a deep breath, letting it out slowly.

“You’ve been thinking about this for a while,” House surmises.

Wilson bites his lower lip before admitting, “It’s been an abstract thought since that steak dinner.”

“After you punched me?” House asks in surprise.

“Yeah. That dinner made me realize how much I missed you. I figured that after not getting any privacy in prison, that that may not be the best time to broach the subject. You’d want your space. So I let it go, figuring we had time to work things out and I could bring it up later. But…”

“Dominika came back.”

“Yeah,” Wilson confirms. “And oddly enough, the idea returned and wouldn’t leave. You seemed okay with living with her…I got to thinking that when that whole thing ended, I could ask you then.

“But,” Wilson says hesitantly as though something’s just occurred to him. “She’s been good…weirdly good for you, defrauding the government aside. Seeing how you reacted to that letter, you said you threw it away…you didn’t want her to know. Meaning you want her to stay.” Wilson looks down into the now cold coffee. “So maybe my blurting that out wasn’t the best idea. Hindsight, I guess.”

“Wilson-“

“Look,” Wilson cuts in, standing up straighter. House knows that this means Wilson’s made a decision and plans to stick to it. Even worse, he plans to make House stick to it, too. 

“Show her the letter,” Wilson urges. “You like her, I know you do. And she likes you, too. You guys…you could have a real marriage if you wanted.”

House looks at him. “That’s…”

“Do it, House,” Wilson demands, gently in only the way Wilson can and House can see that there is a small smile curling the corners of his lips…but there’s no real humor in it. “You never know what could happen and you’re you. You need that answer.”

“What makes you so sure of that?” House questions, frustrated.

Wilson sighs and answers softly, “If you didn’t…you would never have thrown that letter away.”

*****

House has no idea how he ended up back at his place, staring at his sleeping…wife… on the couch. He knows he didn’t finish that coffee…he barely remembers nodding at Wilson before leaving. After that, everything is a blur.

He sits down on the coffee table in front of the couch, reaches out and shakes her shoulder.

“Dominika, wake up.”

She murmurs softly, and opens her eyes, squinting at House in confusion.

“Is something wrong?”

House looks her in the eye and holds up the abused envelope. “Something I need to tell you.”

*****

It takes everything in him not to go bounding back to Wilson’s two minutes after that conversation ends and he has his answer. He can’t believe he even needed that, can’t believe he let himself think…Wilson was right, though. He’d needed to know. So that night, two minutes and thirty-two seconds after leaving Dominika to go back to sleep on the couch, he actually sets an alarm for an hour before he knows Wilson will be at work, though the action is pointless. He never goes to sleep.

Not soon enough, Wilson hasn’t even turned on the light in his office before House says, “We’re idiots. Well, you more than me, clearly, but I’m not above admitting my own shortcomings, few as they are.”

Wilson jumps, startled, slamming the door behind him. “God, House.”

That reaction makes House smile briefly at the familiarity of it as he watches Wilson set his briefcase down on the floor next to his desk. The smile fades when he sees the bags under Wilson's eyes, a bit bigger than usual. He clearly got no more sleep than House did.

“I would ask what you’re doing here so early,” Wilson begins hesitantly. “But I figure this means you talked to her.”

House nods, leans back against the couch. “Yep.”

Wilson tilts his head. “And…?”

“I told you, we, you and I, are idiots.” He uses his cane to lever himself up. “It was never her, Wilson. Not really. The second I told her it was approved, she looked excited and I realized that it didn’t matter is she was leaving.” 

Wilson nods very slowly, processing. “Okay…”

House continues, “You know, you used to be the one I was cooking up schemes with, you used to be the one who could figure out what I was up to before I even knew. I want that back.”

Wilson moves his hands to his pockets and looks down, silent for a moment.

House is beginning to think that maybe this was a bad idea after all when Wilson murmurs, “It’s been…different since you got out.”

House can’t refute that. “Yeah.”

“I should have seen through that kid thing the second he walked in the diner.”

Wilson had expressed the same sentiment after pizza the night after the truth came out. “Three years ago, you would have.”

Wilson exhales a slow shaky breath. “It’s just…I don’t know how to explain it…”

“I think I do,” House hazards.

Wilson smiles wanly at his hesitation. “Are you being careful? Who are you and what have you done with my best friend?”

“That’s it right there,” House says more firmly, unable to stop himself. “My best friend. I want him back. I don’t want this wishy-washy guy who lost his back bone and doesn’t…keep up with me.”

“The guy who used to be able to be one step ahead,” Wilson says faintly, paraphrasing House’s earlier words. He looks a bit shell-shocked, like he can’t believe what he’s hearing.

“Right,” House confirms. “And here’s another thing. I missed you too.”

Wilson blinks, looking even more surprised. “What?”

Feeling a little ridiculous, he tells himself that he can’t take it back now. He finds that he doesn’t want to, not really. “Last night you told me to tell you something you didn’t know. Well, there you go. I missed you, too.”

“I—um…I had some idea,” Wilson says slowly. “Though, it’s nice to hear it out loud. But, House, I’m not sure I know how to do that anymore, keep up with you.”

“Yeah, you do,” House answers, resolutely. “You’ve just gotten lost in your overwhelming need to protect me and forgotten about everything else.”

Wilson shakes his head in disbelief and House knows he’s hit another nail on the head. “You’ve been up all night thinking about this, haven’t you?”

He grips the cane in front of him, swings it idly. “Maybe.”

Wilson looks at him, surveying him, analyzing him in a way that should make House uncomfortable, but it never has, not from Wilson. He’s been on the receiving end of this gaze before, but this time it makes him just a little more nervous.

But then a slow smile slides across Wilson's face and House smiles back without meaning to, starting to see the less tense side of his best friend…the less of the Wilson that thought he needed to try so hard.

“This is probably a horrible idea,” Wilson says.

House shrugs. “If I promise not make any more fake illegitimate kids pop out of the wood-work, would you agree?”

At this, Wilson laughs. “That would be a good start.”

His amusement fades just a little as he examines House’s face again, takes a deep, slow breath and, to House’s immense relief, responds, “Okay. Okay, let’s do it.”

House smiles again, nods, looking away out the balcony window, remembering comfortable discussions with Wilson out there about everything and nothing at the same time.

“So,” House turns back to Wilson with a smirk. “We have plans to work out. Lunch?”

Wilson raises an amused eyebrow. “It’s eight o’ clock in the morning. Besides, I have a patient in fifteen minutes.”

House scoffs. “I didn’t mean right now.” Though, now that he thinks about it, he didn’t eat breakfast this morning. Huh. He’ll con money out of Park. That’ll be fun. “I’m dragging your ass down to the cafeteria at 11:59, no later.”

“So, our usual lunch time, then?”

“Well, duh.”

Wilson grins. “It’s a date.”


End file.
